


Tacenda

by Arlzureinne_Karale



Category: End Roll (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Gen, Headcanon, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 01:21:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9855779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arlzureinne_Karale/pseuds/Arlzureinne_Karale
Summary: Twenty-three was just a number. And everything else better left unsaid.





	

**Author's Note:**

> End Roll belongs to Segawa. Also, a reminder that Russell is a precious sunshine.

When he first stepped to this world of delusion, he was prepared.

He was a researcher after all; he already saw countless dreams and endless painful imagination. He already saw many black sky and red sea, of selfless wind and brewing storm, of neverending rain and gruesome weapons, of blood, of death, of grey, of corrupted heart.

And this one was no exception.

He sipped his coffee, internally bleached when the bitter taste met his tongue in a scalding sensation; this time’s dreamer was an early teen, a boy with shades of sunshine as his hair, yet deepest part of ocean were his eyes. The kid was paler than anyone he was ever seen, black and blue marred his skin, bandage peeked between his clothes, almost stained with red.

This time’s dreamer was a killer, it seemed.

He was not suprised, because the dreamers were _always_ criminals. Spesifically, criminals with death penalty, with nothing remained but sins dripped between their fingers. The world would never care if something happened to them, it never matter whether they fail this experiment or not.

But honestly, it was his first time to saw a dreamer so young.

Yet so dead.

The researcher sighed and placed his papers back to theworktable—the dreamer’s name bolded with an eyecatching black ink; number 23, and that was the end of it. Number 23, a boy with broken heart and equally shattered universe. Number 23, a dreamer without _dreams_.

He did not know much about the dreamer since he preferred to read the document later after he finished with work.

With haste, the researcher pocketed a familiar small device and departed.

 

* * *

A dream always reflected the dreamer.

Walter Bartley honestly did not expected a world full of childish wonders. He certainly did not expected a happy delusion full of light and lilies, of gentle whispering wind and pleasant smell of ocean, of ridiculous human-sized cats and drifting vendors made from metal.

He decided to walk around for a bit to absord some information.

Some of the tree grew eyeballs, he noted. Some of it could move and glance at him when he passed. Was that the nature of this dream, or was that because the dreamer already felt guilt?

Walter did not want to risk and touch it—the last time he sacrificed Raymond Costa to touch something in a dream, Raymond could not move for a day. Apparently, the thing that the trader touched was some sort of natural paralyzing item meant to be used in a battle.

The green-eyed young man glanced around the clearing he just stumbled upon. The vendors sold interesting things; emotions, they said. The dreamer’s shattered emotions. Nonetheless, it was solid and looked exactly like real weapons. There were cross swords and knives, too.

To the left trail of the clearing was a cliff, forest streched far below, evergreen it seemed—the forest must be sctreched to the edge of the dream, Walter thought. To the straight trail was a gloomy town, where everything was dark and smelled like lilies on the bolster of coffin. To the right of the clearing was another trail, strived to a small town, and not too far into the forest in the side of the right trail, Dreamsend Trade’s base stood proudly.

There was a beach not far from the forest clearing. The ocean streched far into an imaginary line, much like the evergreen. The end of the sea merged with the sky, formed a pretty shades of dazzling blue; the same color that painted the dreamer’s eyes, but much livelier.

This world was beautiful.

Russell Seager was beautiful.

Beautifully broken.

After walking around and prodding with various harmless-looking things, Walter finally decided to set his base not too far from the clearing. This dream was awfully convenient, Walter mussed; he did not need much time to set his temporary laboratory for researching.

After he deemed his preparation was finished, enough for collecting the needful valuable information, Walter leaned on his table. Fingers drummed on the surface while he actually wondered if he should start searching for Dreamsend Guide’s base.

What Walter did not expect was when someone suddenly showed up in his doorstep.

“... Greetings, are you this dream’s dreamer?”

He knew the answer, and he wondered why he still asked such question.

Upon Russell’s slight nod, Walter automatically continued, “I’m Walter from Dreamsend Research. I’m intruding into your dream for my research. Publicly, we’re still in testing. But our organization has developed the Happy Dream medicine you use.”

Russell blinked to show he was still listening intently, and Walter’s lips inched upward, “Now, if you assist me obtaining samples for our research, it will allow us to advance. No need to brace yourself, I’ll just have you fight illusions, and naturally, I’ll part with some items if should you win. Have to give some motivation, yes?”

Blue eyes glimmered with interest.

A slight smile crossed Walter’s face, “Well, what it will be? Want to get started?”

Russell nodded, “I’ll fight.”

And a deal, it was.

Walter thought it would took Russell a while to finish—the blond-haired teen was still young, after all. And the researcher made sure he created a perfect replica of Russell’s first enemy. Even with the help of the dream’s inhabitants, surely Russell needed at least half of an hour.

But Russell exceeded his expetation, again.

The blond-haired dreamer came back a moment later without even a drip of sweat, and Walter wondered if the dreamer did fight the illusion or if he needed something else—medicine, or maybe weapon. Eyes the shades of faded ocean in the twilight flashed with determination and solid expression, the intense emotion made Walter paused for a second.

“What is it this time?”

Russell’s voice was still quiet as ever, “... I would like to fight the illusion.”

A long silence. Walter blinked, but Russell did not even bat an eyelash.

“... Right. What do you want to fight this time?”

And again, Russell did not need much time to finish up with the second fight. And then the third, the fourth, the fifth, and the last. The teen wiped clean Walter’s inventory of his end of the deal; gifts if should Russell win. Walter could not even shift his sight away from the fight, for even when he blinked, he knew he would lose a valuable information about the dreamer.

But it was not enough. The information Walter gathered from a dreamer was never enough.

Russell let the researcher joined his party after a little negotiation, and the first place the teen brought him to was a white universe painted with so much red, Walter had to narrow his eyes because the contrasted color hurt his eyes on the first sight.

The dream’s inhabitants did not ask much questions—which Walter supposed was the nature of this dream itself; too convenient, too kind. Tabasa McNeil actually nudged Walter and pointed to a certain place with a bloody rabbit, said he thought there was something there.

There was not many things he could gather from that place, just bits and pieces about Russell’s past trauma—how it shaped this dream, completely hidden from plain sight, but one thing Walter knew for sure, Russell was more than the happiness this dream displayed.

They said, dream was a reflection of a dreamer’s wish.

But when Russell’s dream gradually got darker, Walter started to wonder.

There was a blue sky and an equally beautiful ocean, there was a peaceful nameless town and evergreen, there were smiles and laughs and one more tomorrow. But at the same time, there was a white universe adorned with so much red, there was a haunted hospital with scream smarring its wall, there was a deranged town which smelled like lilies on the bolster of blood-tainted coffin, there was a personification of nightmare so strong, Walter had to turn and ran.

“Ah, welcome. What is it today?”

Russell blinked, as if trying to remember what was he doing in Walter’s place in the first place, though he always dropped by after Walter joined his party just for a small talk. The teen softly answered with a voice no more than a calm whisper, though his eyes zeroed to a stack of cardboard boxes in the corner, “Just want to talk ... what’s with the boxes?”

The same as usual, even if today was the last day of their usual conversation.

“I’ll moved out from this dream, I suppose Fairia or Raymond already explained to you about this? This dream is becoming more unstable the more we approach the last day, I couldn’t risk these things getting caught in the remains. Now, right, are you prepared?”

From many topics he could chose, of course Walter would chose that one.

Russell paused, eyes the shades of darkened daylight shifted to the side. The older sunshine-haired male watched as the teen followed a particular pattern on the ceiling then to the boxes with his gaze, as if trying to avoid an answer and hoping Walter would change his question.

But Walter did not, and Russell glanced down.

“... I ... honestly don’t know.”

Green eyes glimmered with something akin to a warning. Walter placed the small box he was carrying before, for a second he looked like an angry father whose kid was disobedient.

“You know you have to prepare yourself, right?”

Russell nodded.

And somewhere inside Walter, something was dripping with hope.

Because who would not be?

Russell was the first dreamer that could lasted this long, that alone spoke too much hope of succesful experiment and the withdraw of Russell’s execution, Walter knew bits and pieces about his life—and he knew it was not exactly pretty. In the end, the researcher was still a normal human being who could not help but to root for the blue-eyed teen.

Quietly, of course. As a Dreamsend employee, he could not feel attachment towards a dreamer.

“Good luck, then. Maybe after this, we can meet in the other side.”

And Walter left it just like that.

He knew he could not advance further than this, and he had so much work to do, but Russell still dragged him to the Cradle anyway. Together with Tabasa and Dogma Toscarina. Navigating through suffocating darkness and eerie laugh of beer bottles.

The Cradle was the most broken place Walter ever seen, filled with absurd after images of reality, the researcher could not help but compared it to the half-shattered Dozing Forest. There was pictures smudged with dust, and when green eyes finally could take a better look, Walter realized he was reaching to the farthest place in Russell’s dream.

They said, dream could graze memories.

And Russell’s twist it into something so horrible.

Or maybe the dreamer’s reality was even more broken than this.

“This place is kind of too dark for my liking,” Tabasa commented when they took a short rest along the way. Fingers nervously fidgeted with the strap of his rifle while eyes the shades of daylight shifted from side to side in case he missed something he would not want to miss.

“I never saw this kind of place before, may God protect us so,” Dogma mumbled mostly to himself, but everyone could heard it loud and clear. It was not exactly reassuring to know the young pastor was actually nervous about this place, but both Russell and Walter knew better.

Russell did not said anything, and they continued the journey.

At least, they tried to.

Walter slammed against a transparent wall so hard, he almost cursed. His head pounded, there would be an ugly red bruise on his forehead later. Russell turned almost immediately from his place in the front, blue eyes widened with worry.

“I knew it, I can’t advance any further than this.”

Yet, he still nodded to Russell’s request.

“Sorry, but you need to bring someone from your dream instead of me.”

He knew he could not exactly saw what will Russell face far in the darkness, it was not even about gathering as many information about the dream anymore. It was now about his selfish curiosity to help Russell woke up from his cracked dream.

The dreamer paused, the grip he had on his weapon tightened. The younger male quickly crossed the border that kept Walter from advanced forward, honesty dripped from blue eyes.

“Walter ... thank you.”

A slight smile settled on Russell’s face. The same face of a criminal that desperately redeemed for his sins through a beautifully synthetic world.

And when Walter blinked, he was in his temporary laboratory again. With boxes, pieces of memories, and unsettling silence. The ring of telephone snapped him out of his reverie, and when he picked up, Raymond chirped from the end of the line.

It was time to go.

 

* * *

 

It smelled like lilies on the bolster of a coffin.

Russell Seager smelled like Darcover Town, instead of peaceful Nameless Town.

Raymond said the funeral was short, and Walter missed the most of it because of the sudden addition of work. He did not even have time to changed into something more proper for a funeral. A white, flawless doctor coat was the only thing he could manage.

They already lowered the coffin, so Walter stared at the cross wrapped with flower crown.

He sighed before placing the white lily Fairia thrusted to his hand before she pushed him out from his own workplace. Eyes the shades of Russell’s imaginary endless evergreen closed itself when another long sigh escaped his lips.

They did met in the other side.

“You too. Reality was too harsh for you, huh?”

Beside Russell’s grave, there were many other graves despite that ground was a private burial under government’s name. The same white lilies bloomed quietly, watching and swaying and whispering useless words of courage to whoever passing by.

“It’s okay. It’s harsh for me too.”

It were the graves of the dreamers who loved their shattered world so much, they drowned.

And something inside the researcher of dreams emptily trembled.

**.**

**Author's Note:**

> I had this headcanon of Walter for a while; Russell in his point of view. And boy, did it hurt my heart so much, I just had to write it and share it with all of you, let's suffer together!
> 
> Sooo, recently I write drabbles in my spare times, and it's mostly fluff and romances, I actually almost forgot how to write angst. But since End Roll need more fluffy AUs, I'll work hard to write more fluffy things like Day Off, wish me luck! And I had this idea about another crossover with Angel of Death again, maybe it could be sequel for Day Off?
> 
> As always, thanks to Freyyyy for patiently going through my mess!
> 
> Sorry for any grammar mistakes, thank you for reading~!  
> -Azureinne K.


End file.
